


Energy

by DreaminginCabeswater



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: First Kisses, First Times, Fluff, M/M, Motorcycles, NSFW, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreaminginCabeswater/pseuds/DreaminginCabeswater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams do come true. Ronan and Adam take a trip to the barns to let off some steam. It is exactly what both of them need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Energy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Raven Boys, sadly, belong to Maggie Stiefvater, not me. 
> 
> This is my first fic for The Raven Cycle fandom, and it is purely a self-indulgent work. I am Pynch trash. I have not finished reading BLLB, so it may not be accurate at certain points. (And in this fic, all characters are 18+)

Ronan sat on the couch in Monmouth Manufacturing trying to ignore the energy coursing through his body. Over the past few weeks, it had become something palpable. A force that vibrated his very veins, boiled his blood, shook his skin, ached in his head. It took every ounce of self control to stay still in his practiced posture of disregard for everything around him. He was strung high, tight as a tightrope, ready to bounce if plucked. He didn’t want to know what would happen if the string accidently snapped. Even sleep was fleeting. Dreams an apparition of the past.

His gaze kept flickering to the other side of the large, open living room, where Adam stood looking over Gansey’s perfectly coifed shoulder at an oversized book that looked like it belonged in the Library of Congress instead of their living room. Adam’s dusty hair fell into his eyes, and he kept futilely pushing it away for it to only fall back again. Ronan smirked silently. Damn, sometimes he wished he was those fingers.

Gansey pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses and spouted some shit about ley lines and Glendower that made Ronan roll his eyes. Nothing was particularly interesting to him tonight. He wanted something more. 

Ronan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, mindlessly chewing on a knotted leather strap at his wrist, the heady scent of gasoline and warm summer air stirring within him boredom and restless energy. A deadly combination. He ached to race, to pour all his intensity into asphalt, burning clutches, and white knuckles on the steering wheel, but after the Pig and Kavinsky, he had promised Gansey some downtime from racing. 

“Ronan,” Gansey had said in his fatherly voice that Ronan could never ignore. “I think maybe you should lay off the racing for a bit. Try to think of Matthew.”

Gansey had pulled out the big guns. Ronan knew he was fucked.

He had rolled his eyes behind narrowed slits, pouring out an acidic, “Okay,” and stormed off to his room.

It was now taking everything within Ronan to continue to comply with Gansey’s request. He continued to roll the leather strap in between his teeth, rolling his eyes at the promise he made. He was such a fucking pansy. Now, he only had one outlet for his frustration: words. 

“Are you two done circle jerking over Glendower yet?” Ronan asked, his voice indifferent. 

Gansey dismissed him with a flick of his wrist, never looking up from the dusty book he was flipping through. Somewhere in Monmouth Manufacturing, Noah stifled a giggle, and Adam raised an eyebrow, the left corner of his mouth quirking up slightly, and sighed. 

“You’re a dick, Lynch,” Adam said.

“I believe you got me confused with the actual Dick standing next to you.” 

Ronan gave Adam his sharpest smile, holding his deep gaze, and Adam smiled in kind. Ronan’s heart flipped in his chest. The combination of emotion and high strung energy was almost too much. He needed to punch something, throw anything, destroy a brick wall. 

Where was Noah? 

He was feeling dangerous and throwing Noah out a window would have been better than what came out of his mouth next.

“You want to get out of here?”

“Ronan,” Gansey was using his Gansey voice. “We’re talking about Glendower.” He said it like it was a life or death matter.

“I wasn’t talking to you old man.” Ronan kept his eyes fixed on Adam. Adam’s blue eyes narrowed, an eyebrow quirking toward his shaggy bangs, his blushed lips pursed.

“So what do you say, Parrish?” Ronan stood and approached like a cat prowling for prey. “Want to get out of here?”

Ronan wanted nothing more in that moment than to kiss Adam. To pour all of this fucking residual energy into him. God knew he needed it more than Ronan. Adam continued to hold Ronan’s gaze, a strange, almost dreamy look on his face, biting at his bottom lip. Ronan could have almost sworn Adam was trying to look seductive. The thought was equally ridiculous and captivating. It was doing odd things inside Ronan. Odd things that could get very embarrassing very soon. 

Ronan let out a caustic laugh. “I guess I could always join the circle jerk festivities. Would you like that instead, Adam?” 

The long, elegant lines of Adam’s face dulled, and his bright eyes darkened. 

“Fuck off, Lynch.” His voice shook a bit. Anger or confusion? Ronan wasn’t sure.

“Have it your way,” Ronan spit, stalking to his room, leaving a long line of poetic obscenities in his wake.

****

The door slamming behind Ronan was enough to push Adam off center. He was already teetering ridiculously close to the edge to deal with the feelings that surged through him when Ronan asked him to leave Monmouth Manufacturing. Feelings he had been toying with in his daydreams and in the dark of night. Visions of fingers tracing muscle and bone, skin against skin. Images of lips bruising lips, teeth nipping at sensitive skin. Perceptions of warmth and relief and satisfaction. Feelings he wasn’t ready to admit. 

Now, his mind warred with his body that he was safe and not in his family’s trailer. He didn’t need to duck. He didn’t need to hide. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He wondered how long this would last. The anger. The sadness. The pain. Though the physical scars had long left him, the scars in his mind and heart and soul were still there, fresh as day one and bleeding just as profusely. Some days he considered if he would ever just bleed out. 

“You okay?”

Adam looked down to see that he was gripping Gansey’s desk chair with such ferocity that his knuckles paled and his fingers numbed. He loosened his grip.

“Yeah. Peachy.” Adam could hear the doubly extended Henrietta vowels in his voice and knew that Gansey knew he was not fine. 

“I can go talk to him,” Gansey suggested, and after a clipped second added, “If you would like, of course.” 

Adam closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“I said I’m fine,” he said bitterly.

Ronan’s molten blue eyes haunted him. For a moment he had allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to just leave. To walk away from Gansey and Glendower and Monmouth Manufacturing. To just be Adam and Ronan. Ignoring everything, including his fears, and just give in to the wonderings and hidden daydreams. A thrill had surged through his veins. There was no denying that he wanted to go.

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Gansey said in a whisper so quiet, Adam wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.

“Why would I do that?” Adam asked, his words biting. It wasn’t Gansey’s fault that he wanted to fix everything, but Adam refused to let him fix him. That was his job, and if Adam screwed it up, he would only have himself to blame.

“He would listen to you,” Gansey was still tentative as he picked his next words. “He would never hurt you on purpose.” 

Adam made a dismissive noise, his voice louder. “First of all, who in the hell said I was hurt?” Adam’s cheeks burned. His fists clenched. Anger a white hot thing rising inside him. “Ronan hurts people on purpose all the time. He gets off on it.”

Gansey’s face scrunched up the way it always did when he was pondering the meaning of life, which meant Glendower. “I don’t know about that.”

Adam knew Gansey was right. Ronan had a nasty habit of hurting people but only because he himself was hurting. Adam knew he could relate to that himself, but he pushed the ugly truth down until it was buried again under gasoline-scented rags soaked in slick oil and dusted in Henrietta dirt. 

“I’m leaving,” Adam spit out, turning on his heels, slinging his backpack on his back and leaving Monmouth Manufacturing for the safety of St. Agnes. 

****

Ronan heard the door slam, a loud bang ricocheting off all the walls of Monmouth Manufacturing, and Adam traipsing down the rickety stairs to the first floor, but he ignored it. He rubbed a hand over his head and down his face, thinking of how he asked Adam out and fucked it up. 

Gansey was ever unobservant. He wouldn’t figure it out, but Adam would. Observation was a survival skill for him. 

A new feeling of awkwardness warred with the others, a strange and out of place creature among the other more common ones. He held his head in his hands and breathed out. 

New plan: Get plastered. 

****

Ronan woke with a start. His head hitting the wall next to him. Empty beer bottles clanging to the floor. The half empty one on his lap tipped over, spilling lukewarm suds over him and the bed.

He let loose a profanity laced tirade that only intensified when he noticed his neck was stiff from sleeping propped against the wall like a fucking lunatic.

The sleep did nothing for him. The agitation had only grown, now volatile under his skin, slinking about like a shark lurking to destroy something, anything. 

At this point, even a night terror would be better than all this. At least then he could burn off some adrenaline, but dreams evaded him. Ronan rolled his eyes at the irony. When he wanted to be hunted, the fucking damn birds left him alone. Figures. Bastards.

Now he looked down at his soaked black tank, torn jeans and blankets and then out the windows. It was pitch black, except for a fuzzy iridescent circle on the overgrown parking lot below. Ronan didn’t know how much time he had passed in sleep, but it wasn’t enough. 

He stood, rolling his neck, trying to work the crick out of it. His thoughts flitted back to Adam and he scrunched his eyes close, running a hand over his face. Shit, he was uncomfortable in his own skin.

Ronan had promised himself to keep his feelings for Adam hidden, only permitting the occasional glance to appreciate Adam’s handsome face and how his lean muscles flexed under that damn faded Coca-Cola shirt he was always wearing. His mind then traveled down a rabbit hole to a fantasy that Ronan swiftly closed down. 

Ronan allowed himself another peek at the memory from earlier in the evening. What could he say? He found pleasure in pain. He recalled the way Adam looked at him, the way he bit his lip and his eyes glazed over, the little sigh. Adam’s look wasn’t just a look; it was a gaze, a caress even. He had seen that look before on his own face. Ronan’s breath hitched. 

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, realization settling over him. “That goddamn asshole.”

Every muscle in his body tensed, a tidal wave of emotions hit him. The energy ignited like a Molotov cocktail. Every nerve ending tingling. He picked up a book and threw it across the room, rewarding him with a satisfying thump. 

“Ronan! What was that?” Gansey called from outside his door.

Ronan switched out his wet clothes for dark sweats and a darker t-shirt and walked out of Monmouth Manufacturing leaving behind a bewildered Gansey.

****

Adam lie in bed, the quiet hum of St. Agnes all around. The louder hum of Cabeswater inside him. Moonlight, cool and bright, streamed in from the lone window in the tiny apartment. It was warm, but Adam shivered. His body was finally calming down and now shame replaced anxiety. Two brothers, equally vying for time on the stage that was his life. He was ashamed for the clipped way he spoke to Gansey and slammed the door to Monmouth Manufacturing, for letting Ronan’s snap judgment action, which meant nothing, mean something, and he was mainly mad at himself for letting it all matter. His muscles shuddered under his skin, a byproduct of anxiety, usually only relieved by physical exhaustion. It was a first that he wasn’t exhausted already.

Adam contemplated getting up and working on history homework or reading a book or even running around the block, but his thoughts were interrupted by a bang on his door.

“Parrish! Wake the fuck up!” 

Adam plodded to the door, flinging it open, knowing exactly who it was. Ronan stood before him, sweats and a black tank, arms crossed across his chest, his chin jutting out under a smirk. 

“About damn time,” Ronan muttered under his breath as he pushed past Adam into the tiny apartment.

“Please come in,” Adam said rolling his eyes, extending a hand in way of ushering him in. 

Ronan stood in the center of the tiny apartment, his stature demanding attention, his head cocked to the side, the gesture reminding Adam of Chainsaw. 

In his deaf ear he heard Cabeswater whisper, “Greywaren.” 

Under the shadows and illumination of the moon, Ronan looked otherworldly. More bird than man. The sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw sharper. His blue eyes on fire. He wanted to close the distance and touch him. 

Adam stood still, eyebrows arched in a silent question.

“Let’s go.” Ronan said it like there was no arguing, which was usual when Ronan had his mind set on something.  
“Go where?” Adam asked, his heart pounding against his breastbone, the whoosh echoing in his head. 

This reminded Adam of a dream he had once. His exhilaration tripled.

Ronan was unmovable. “Let’s go,” he repeated. 

Adam didn’t even try to argue with either himself or Ronan. He wanted to go as much as Ronan wanted him to go. He pulled on his shoes.

“Okay, the shoes are on,” Adam said, inching toward Ronan. “I’m ready to go. Where are we going?”

The heady scent of mist, moss and expensive cologne made Adam’s head swim. Ronan’s smirk transformed into a mischievous grin. 

“You’ll see.” 

****

Ronan glanced at Adam sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW, one arm resting on the window, hand hanging outside the car moving with the wind, the other languidly propped in his lap. He stared out toward the rolling Virginia hills alive with trees and grass swaying in the wind and the towering Blue Mountains in the distance, a peaceful look on his face. The full moon transformed Adam’s dusty brown hair to a shining gold. Ronan’s fingers twitched against the steering wheel, wanting to brush Adam’s hair out of his eyes, jealous of the wind rustling through it. The smell of earth and grass and rain whipped into the car wrapping its tendrils around them. It was intoxicating. The whole night was intoxicating. Agitation seeped from Ronan’s muscles in response to speed, fast curves and fresh air, but he was still jittery.

“What are you thinking about?” Adam asked quietly, still looking out at the verdant landscape. 

“Do you want a goddamn fucking nuggie, Loser?” One of Ronan’s eyebrows arched and his lips twisted into a sneer.

Adam laughed. A deep, hearty laugh. Carefree and exuberant. It reached a place within Ronan he thought had been forever boarded up behind dark metal walls. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the heat that coursed through his chest. As quickly as the laugh started it stopped. Ronan cursed the wind for sweeping the anomaly out toward the fields.

“I guess I deserve that,” Adam answered and went silent again. 

What was Ronan thinking about? Of course he was thinking about Adam. How close they were. If he just reached out a hand, he could close the distance between the two. He was wondering if Adam’s hair was as soft as it looked. He was thinking about the elegant lines of Adam’s face and how he wanted to trace his fingers over the edges and watch his eyes close, luxuriating in the sensation, light lashes twitching across his tan skin. He was thinking about how, if he ever got close enough to Adam, he feared his senses would all explode, a nuclear reaction. 

“Home,” Ronan muttered. 

It wasn’t a lie.

Adam turned toward him. “Huh?”

“I was thinking about home.”

Adam smiled. 

“Do you want me to punch you?” Ronan gave him a knowing look.

“You probably would anyways,” Adam grinned. “Tell me about home.” 

Adam’s blue eyes were wide, wondering, sincere. Ronan would never be able to say no to those eyes. He took a deep breath and told Adam about the Barns. 

How he would swing from the plum trees, jumping out just in time to scare the shit out of Declan. How Ronan and Matthew would hunt for treasure in the fields behind the barns, and they would find rusted gold coins, old timey hand watches, impossible tools and trinkets, all secretly placed by their father. Ronan told Adam of how their family would play music at night by the fire, as Niall and Aurora would dance in wide, sweeping circles, laughter filling the house like another guest. He told Adam of how his mom and dad would tuck him in and kiss him on his forehead, telling him to dream of colors and lovely things. Adam listened intently, laughing and holding his breath. Niall Lynch had been a natural born storyteller. Ronan smiled fondly thinking he was cut from the same cloth.

“I miss it.” 

I miss him. 

Ronan sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself. He didn’t dare look at Adam. Beside him Adam shifted and a warm hand covered his over the gear shift. Ronan didn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. 

“Are we almost there?” Adam asked, his hand still softly gripping Ronan’s. 

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to the Barns, aren’t we?” 

Ronan nodded, a slight jut of his chin.

“You can always make new memories,” Adam whispered. 

This was dangerous territory. Ronan kept his eyes on the road. 

****

They pulled into the long driveway that led to the Barns. Adam always thought it looked like something out of a dream and now he knew it was. They pulled past the cherry blossoms and low hanging tea roses into a clearing. Ronan parked in the garage and got out of the car. Adam followed. He hadn’t realized what he was doing when he put his hand over Ronan’s. He just wanted to comfort him. He heard the heaviness in his words. 

“I miss it.” 

He heard what he meant to say: I miss him.

Adam had felt that heaviness thinking about the trailer and his parents, but he didn’t have happy memories to miss. All those memories were of blood and bruises and pain. He shook his head flinging the memories away.

“Lynch if you’re taking me to the fields to murder me, there will be hell to pay by the name of Gansey.”

Ronan snorted. “As if that old man dick could touch me.” 

Adam and Ronan had spent plenty of time here at the Barns, but never at night and never feeling the way he was feeling. The long car ride to the Barns was calming, peaceful, just what he needed. Ronan had an uncanny knack for knowing what he needed. 

Ronan led Adam to a barn further away from the old white farmhouse through swaying grass under a full moon. Adam had never been in this barn. It was red and white like the others, like a bucolic picture out of a magazine, but there was a large wrought iron R with Celtic knots and swirls next to one door. 

“R?” Adam asked, twisting his head to the side, looking at Ronan. “Is this your personal barn?”

Ronan smiled, his perfect teeth showing behind thin lips skewing into a sharp grin. 

“How’d you guess, Parrish? Are you a genius or something?” Ronan lightly knocked his knuckles against his shoulder and turned to unlock the barn door. 

“How come you’ve never shown me this before?” Adam’s eye grew wide and jumped to put a hand on Ronan’s at the lock. “Wait! It isn’t full of porn and bombs is it?”

Ronan laughed, a deep laugh from his belly and waggled his eyebrows, and Adam could see a bit of the old Ronan that Gansey talked so fondly of. 

“You know me, I live dangerously. Are you up to the challenge, Parrish?” 

Before Adam could give an answer, Ronan opened the barn door with a flick of his wrist. The door groaning from disuse.

“Whoa,” Adam breathed out.

Ronan looked pleased with himself. The barn was similar to the other barns, but where the other barns had Niall Lynch’s signature all over them, this one had Ronan Lynch’s. 

Baskets of undying blue and white flowers, overflowed onto a bucket of odd copper colored trinkets. A crate of wooden sculptures sat next to a pile of odd-shaped instruments and a pile of vinyl records.

Adam picked up an instrument shaped like a cloud, plucking the string, it sang out a tinny sound that made Adam’s chest ache. Another sang a beautiful melody about an Irish castle. He continued wandering around, picking up rare items and examining each one, gingerly sitting them back down again. 

“I didn’t think you could take things out of your dreams back then,” Adam said.

“Where the hell do you think Matthew came from?” Ronan shook his head and continued to the back of the barn.

Adam ignored him and kept exploring, each item more fascinating than the one before.

“Here it is!” Ronan shouted. “Parrish, get your motherfucking ass back here.”

“Asshole,” Adam shouted back with a smile. 

Next to Ronan was a large object covered with canvas.

“Don’t tell me that’s Noah,” Adam said deadpan. 

“Hell no. That pansy wouldn’t come within ten feet of this,” Ronan smirked, pulling the sheet off and tossing it to the floor.

Adam’s jaw dropped. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” Ronan asked, reveling in the shock on Adam’s face.

“Did you dream that?” Adam asked, pointing at the most beautiful motorcycle he had ever seen. Sleek. State of the art. A blue that matched Ronan’s eyes. Sexy.

“Nah. I pulled it from my ass.” 

Ronan leaned over the bike and pulled up the kick stand. Adam rolled his eyes. 

“No shit Sherlock. You better fucking believe I dreamed it. It was right before Dad was killed.”

Adam could see a wince beneath Ronan’s stone exterior.

“I haven’t had a chance to ride it yet. I put it away. Now’s just as good as time as any to give it a shot. What do you say, Parrish, ready to walk on the wild side?” 

Adam’s eyebrows shot up thinking of the dolly and the shopping cart and Glendower. 

“I think we do plenty of walking on the wild side. I thought Gansey put you on speed arrest.”

“Gansey didn’t put me on anything. I do what I want. Anyways, that was racing. I’m not racing tonight. Speed is what I need.” 

Ronan’s eyes sparkled in the dark whether from mischievousness or euphoria, Adam didn’t know.

“Come on, let’s see how fast this baby can get.” 

Ronan turned and pushed the bike out of the barn. Adam followed. 

The bike started with a thundering roar. Ronan straddled the bike. He looked like something out of a dream. Wild and ragged. Adam’s breath hitched.

Over the thundering roar, Ronan yelled, “Get on, Runt!”

“Lynch, is this thing even safe?” 

Leave it to Ronan to dream a death trap without helmets. Adam settled onto the bike behind Ronan without waiting for an answer. 

Ronan reached behind them and pulled Adam flush to his back. 

“Now it is.”

Instinctively, Adam placed his hands on Ronan’s sides, fingers digging into lean muscles and bone, his knees pressed against Ronan’s hips. His heart fluttered. 

Ever since he realized Ronan’s feelings for him, Adam’s own feelings had grown, surprising him. Most of the time, barring a stray daydream, he kept them hidden, even from himself, but tonight he played with the feelings, his discovery, the way a cat paws at a ball of yarn. He let himself relish in the way Ronan’s hand felt under his in the BMW, and now how Ronan’s body responded to every movement of his hands and knees. He allowed himself to admit that Ronan’s scent of mist and moss and expensive cologne was intoxicating. He let his imagination run wild with what-ifs. What if Ronan kissed him, would he kiss him back? What if Adam was bold and made the first move? What if kissing turned into more? Adam’s cheeks burned at the thought, but at the same time his stomach churned in hopefulness. 

“Hold on!” Ronan let out a maniacal laugh and took off, his head down low, hands clutching the handle bars.

The force pushed Adam further against Ronan’s back, and he slid his hands forward, searching for purchase along Ronan’s stomach, more out of necessity than anything else, but Adam was fully aware of the tense muscles under the black tank contracting beneath his hands. The final bit of anxiety from earlier melted into his surroundings - the wind tearing at his skin, the white pinpricks of stars overhead, the clicking of cicadas, and the sweet scent of night blooming jasmine - and the earlier what-ifs swirled in his mind.

Ronan cackled again, letting out a wail of pleasure. 

“This is fucking awesome!” 

Ronan maneuvered the bike up and over hills, across a sea of green, around massive oaks and under white trellises. Ronan was in his own personal playground, and he had invited Adam to play.

“This is beyond fucking awesome!” Adam yelled back, pulling closer to Ronan, his muscles tensing and relaxing in symphony. Calm tinged with anticipation settled over Adam. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, every sense heightened and inhibitions lowered. 

Adam’s fingers had a mind of their own now, tracing the hard lines of Ronan’s abdomen, his chest molded along Ronan’s back, the black ink of his tattoo peeking out along his biceps, shoulders and neck. Adam wanted to press a kiss to the base of Ronan’s neck. The thrill of the speed and the wind thrashing over his body and being this close to Ronan was staggering. He had effectively shut off any logical thinking and was just feeling. This was something more than touching his hand or shoulder. This was intimate in a way he had never known. A smolder ignited in the pit of his stomach. 

****

Ronan elaborately skid the bike to a halt next to his barn and glanced back toward Adam. “Wanna take her for a spin, Shithead?” 

Thinking about Adam’s long, elegant fingers sliding along his abdomen, Ronan prayed he would say no. Ronan was burning with desire. The speed had only sent him over the edge, and his restlessness was at atomic levels. 

Adam sighed, long and loud, and closed his eyes. Ronan could feel Adam’s heart pounding against his back. It matched his own. The air felt thick with unsaid words. Then he felt a flutter against the base of his neck. Light as butterfly wings. 

“Fuck,” Ronan breathed and closed his eyes trying not to let the bike fall over. 

He sat perfectly still as Adam’s fingertips reached under his shirt and traced patterns across his abdomen and ribs and reached up over his chest and back down again. He had no idea what had gotten into Adam, but he wasn’t complaining. He loved it. Another kiss at the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

“Adam-” 

He broke off as Adam ran the tip of his tongue across the spot he just kissed. Ronan sucked in air through his clenched teeth. He was a ball of flames. His veins ignited. His heart beat haphazardly in his chest. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of Adam: oil, gasoline, fresh air, and soap. 

It took every ounce of his self control to sit still under Adam’s hands and mouth. He wanted to grab Adam, throw him to the ground, and let nature take its course, but this was Adam. He deserved so much more, and Ronan had every intention of giving him what he deserved, and right now Adam deserved to explore, to test the waters, to see what he wanted. Ronan was more than willing to be his test subject.

Adam’s mouth trailed up Ronan’s neck, under his ear, stopping to bite softly, and then across his jaw.

Ronan’s hands left the handle bars of the bike and found Adam’s. Their fingers intertwined against his chest in a silent profession of faith, and Ronan turned his head to find Adam’s mouth. 

Their lips meshed together soft and burning, Adam sighed into Ronan’s mouth, and Ronan acknowledged it with a low sound from the base of his throat.

Adam broke away first, his eyes hooded, his breath ragged, and scooted off the bike. 

Their first kiss had been soft and gentle, a lapping of waves against the sand, but it had undone him and Ronan could see that it had the same effect on Adam. It had pulled the fray of an unraveling string, and now the walls were coming down, falling into giant piles of dust.

Ronan stood before Adam, his rising chest matching Adam’s. Ronan recognized the restrained want in Adam’s eyes, it mirrored his own. His skin still burned where Adam’s fingers had lingered. It pleaded for the return of those fingers like a drug addict craved another hit. 

“Ronan, I don’t know what-” 

Ronan cut off Adam’s words with his mouth. He couldn’t bear to hear an apology for something so magical. Adam had done nothing wrong and Ronan needed to show him that.

The first kiss had been soft, a gentle caress, a warm fire in a fireplace. This kiss was a raging wildfire, a monsoon. An urgent dance of lips and tongues and teeth, biting, licking, pulling, bruising. Fingers searching, arms holding, bodies pressing. Adam moaned against Ronan’s mouth, making Ronan crazy. 

Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam pulling him closer. It was like a dream. A prayer being answered. Ronan savored every touch. He worshiped the little sounds that Adam made when Ronan opened his lips to deepen the kiss. The feel of Adam’s tongue gliding against his own pulled a guttural sound from his core. He was burning alive. Drowning in a sea of emotions. He would have punched a goddamn wall if he had one.

After what seemed like an eternity or a second, Ronan rested his forehead against Adam’s, tracing his thumbs over his hollow cheekbones, his breathing heavy. 

“Don’t ever apologize for that you little fucker.” 

Adam smiled and pressed a kiss against Ronan’s lips.

Ronan grinned. “I figured midgets weren’t your type.” 

“Shut up asshole.” Adam snickered and pushed Ronan backwards toward the bike. 

His absence was too much to bear. With a chuckle, Ronan tackled him to the ground. 

“Get back here, Parrish,” he growled, placing a kiss against Adam’s temple. “Don’t think I’m ever going to let you go again.” 

****

Adam didn’t know how much time he and Ronan had passed lying in the fields, but now the edges of the world shifted from black to navy to a fuzzy pink. Dew settled on the grass around them, dampening their clothes. They had spent the night talking, kissing, fingers exploring over clothes, gently testing the boundaries of this new found treasure. Ronan’s face was calm, sincere, not the usual, shielded mask. Adam was content, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Adam?” Ronan’s voice was low, tentative.

Adam tore his eyes from the swirls of pink and orange rising over the sky. Ronan was staring at the same sky, one arm beneath his head.

“Yeah?” Adam asked, interlacing his hand with Ronan’s free hand. 

“How did you know?” 

For a moment Adam didn’t know what he was talking about. Cabeswater? Greywaren? Then realization hit him like the dawn of the sky.

Adam’s voice was barely a whisper. “How I figured out you liked me?”

Ronan nodded. 

Adam knew the exact moment.

“The rent.” 

Adam’s voice was tight. He fought back the choking feeling in his throat, and the burning sensation behind his eyes. That one act was precious to him.

Gansey always wanted to do something for Adam. Buy him food or clothes or provide him with privileges that others never would have or could ever afford. He used to think it was pity, but it was his own pride that kept him from accepting it. When he thought Gansey had manipulated his rent he was furious. The anger was a caged creature living inside him for weeks. He hated having to take a handout, especially from Gansey, but he knew he had to. There were only so many hours in a day and so many extra shifts he could work. He knew the math. He knew he had to take it, but he hated it. He hated himself for it.

The moment he put the puzzle pieces together it was something altogether different. He had been lying in bed, the darkness surrounding him like a blanket. He allowed himself to rattle the bars of the caged, angry creature. He could even visualize it. A vicious thing, all claws and teeth and goose pimpled flesh and tufts of fur over lean, agile muscle. It snarled and bashed its shoulder over and over against the bars, demanding to be freed. 

Adam had been admiring it in the distance, when the creature transformed and Ronan stood in its place. He was not unlike the creature, a permanent sneer painted on his face, smoldering eyes, leanly muscled body, dangerous.

Adam blinked a few times trying to wipe away the thought. At first he had thought Cabeswater was messing with him, a trick upon their newest Magician, but in his left ear, he heard the rustle of trees, the sprinkle of rain, and the word, “Greywaren,” followed by the word, “Rent.” 

Adam had sprung up in bed, the walls of his tiny St. Agnes apartment closing in on him. His mind was wild with questions. Ronan had paid his rent? Ronan had done something nice for him? It was inconceivable.

In the months he had known Ronan, he was unaware of him even being capable of kindness, but sitting in bed, Cabeswater riffled through his mind and threw images at him, and he saw it. Ronan hugging Matthew’s head close to his chest, placing his chin on the top of Matthew’s head. Ronan speaking tenderly of his mother and father. Ronan punching Adam’s father. Ronan gingerly petting Chainsaw’s feathers. Ronan poetically weaving dark words; he even took care with his profanity. 

Ronan had paid his rent. He had taken care of the unknowable boy. The boy made from Henrietta dirt, stained in blood and oil. Adam tested the reality of it all and the cage was empty. The anger vanished, leaving only behind peace. In the cool night air, a warm feeling settled over his bones and all at once he was exhausted. He had slept soundly the whole night. 

The next morning he woke to a day with brighter blues, deeper greens, and warmer yellows. His first thought was of Ronan. Why would he pay his rent? What was the motivation? 

Cabeswater whispered, “Love.” 

From that moment on, Adam paid closer attention to Ronan. Analyzing his every move, look, word. Every time he brushed a hand over Adam’s wrist, touched his shoulder to Adam’s, or threw a leg over his, a little jolt would rush through his veins. Every time Ronan called his last name, air was harder to keep in his lungs and his heart turned over. And at the ugly manmade lake, when Adam finally confronted Ronan about the rent, he saw what Cabeswater said in Ronan’s eyes and more: love, need, desire, attachment, reverence. Adam knew that Ronan would have shattered if he hadn’t run off to finish fixing the ley line, and Adam did just that because it wasn’t the time. 

Now was the time. 

So this dawn when Adam admitted it was the rent that did Ronan in, Ronan exhaled and shook his head, a tiny smile at his lips.

“I knew you would figure it out, Parrish.” 

After a beat, Adam asked, “When did you know?” 

Adam was curious why Ronan chose tonight of all nights to make his first blatant move. 

Ronan turned on his side, facing Adam, his elbow propped against the ground, a wicked grin crawled across his thin lips. 

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Adam’s voice went up a few notches with his eyebrows, his Henrietta accent making an unwelcome appearance. 

“Tonight?” Ronan voice went up too, mimicking Adam’s accent. “Yes, tonight and I should never admit this, but damn it, I felt embarrassed.” 

Even now, Adam could see a slight blush to Ronan’s cheeks. 

“You?” Adam asked incredulous. “No way in hell.”

“Yeah, it’s all your fault, Mr. Stare-at-me-like-you-want-to-fuck-me-silly, then do an about face.” 

Ronan’s eyes narrowed and his smile thinned out like a dagger, sharp and dangerous.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Adam sat up on his knees and leaned closer to Ronan. His cheeks burned.

Ronan exhaled in response.

Adam’s lips were nearly on Ronan’s ear, just a tickle of air against skin. “Maybe, I did want to fuck you-” Adam pulled Ronan’s earlobe between his teeth. Ronan stopped breathing. “Silly.” 

With a chuckle, Adam jumped up and ran across the field toward the Barn’s white farmhouse. Adam could hear Ronan groan behind him, frustration wrapped in desire.

“Get back here, asshole!” Ronan called after him, taking his time getting up. 

“Make me!” Adam yelled over his shoulder, flashing Ronan a smile. 

“This is going to get ugly Parrish.” Ronan had taken off in a full sprint. His long limbs gracefully propelling him across the fields bathed in the golden rays of early morning sunlight. 

Adam could hear laughter behind him, clear and true, joyful. Ronan was happy. Adam’s heart swelled. It was all he wanted for his handsome friend. 

****

Ronan was in heaven. Adam zigzagged in front of him, the waking sun turning his dusty hair golden, his smile like a beacon in the dark world. Ronan pumped his legs faster. That little motherfucker knew what his words would do to him. Adam was having a damn good time teasing him. 

“Adam! Your ass is mine!” Ronan called after him. 

Damn he was agile. Ronan wondered if he should take up tennis again or lay off the beer. Nah. Life was too short.

As they reached the farmhouse, Ronan closed the distance between him and Adam. With a dive, Ronan closed his arms around Adam’s torso, both hitting the ground with a thud and laughter. He rolled over, his body a cage around Adam’s. 

Ronan studied Adam. He was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Adam’s eyes were hooded, the blue of his eyes almost black. His cheeks flushed pink, his lips swollen and red from a night of kissing and talking. Adam’s chest was rising and falling in rhythm with Ronan’s heartbeat, laughter bubbling up from his throat. 

“So what were you saying about fucking me?” Ronan leaned in, his lips brushing Adam’s. 

“I want to,” Adam said against Ronan’s lips, his fingers threading through his hair at the base of his neck.

“Are you sure?” 

Ronan wanted to know that Adam was positive. That they were not going to be something he regretted tomorrow. 

“Absolutely.” 

The word was a whispered devotion against Ronan’s ear. The word travelled down his spine and lit like kerosene in his veins and nerve endings. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. 

Ronan pulled back from Adam. It was the most difficult thing he ever had to do. All he needed was just one second.

“All you have to say is stop if you change your mind.”

****

“All you have to say is stop, if you change your mind,” Ronan whispered before him.  
Adam couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He would never want to. Those simple words were all he needed to hear to know that Ronan was who he wanted to be with. Ronan would care for him, like he always did, putting Adam before himself. It made him feel safe, secure, loved… known. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. Those words tore a chunk out of the dam that Adam built a lifetime ago, a flood of feelings overtaking him. 

Ronan’s liquid blue eyes were blown out, the hard lines of his face soft and concerned, his wicked lips parted in expectation. 

“Okay,” was all Adam could say before he smashed his lips against Ronan’s. 

Adam’s mind turned off and his body took over. Instinct driving him. Steering his fingers as they traced over Ronan’s face and neck, then down his biceps to rest at his narrow waist. Adam burned under Ronan’s caresses. His fingers and tongue leaving trails of fire in their wake. Adam’s whole being urged him to get closer to Ronan. 

Adam reached down to pull his shirt over his head, but Ronan stopped him and stood up, holding out a hand for Adam.

“Come on,” Ronan said. “You deserve your first time to be in a bed.” 

Adam laced his fingers with Ronan’s, not showing how much that bit of thoughtfulness meant to him. 

“Why do you think this is my first time, asshole?” Adam asked, trying to be coy, but sounding more ashamed.

Ronan arched an eyebrow. “Shut up, Adam.” He pressed a kiss to Adam’s cheek. 

Ronan led them upstairs to his old room, a room full of Celtic records, posters of sleek and sexy cars, more odd copper trinkets and books. Adam stood in the room, admiring all that was Ronan. Still is Ronan. Behind him, Ronan shut the door and then encircled his arms around Adam’s chest. 

“Where were we?” His breath was hot against Adam’s skin. 

Ronan trailed kisses down Adam’s neck. Adam closed his eyes savoring every touch, leaning into Ronan’s chest and rolling his head back, giving Ronan easier access to the tender skin at his jaw line. His own hands reached around to cup Ronan’s ass. Adam could feel a hard bulge pressed against him. 

Ronan’s hands trailed down Adam’s abdomen to the hem of his T-shirt and in one fluid movement, the shirt was off and flung to the far corner of the room. Adam stood still as Ronan traced the muscles of Adam’s back, each touch sending a shockwave through him. He gasped as Ronan’s hands were replaced with his tongue going lower and lower. Adam didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. 

He turned, Ronan crouched before him now.

“Stand up,” Adam demanded. 

A fire flared in Ronan’s eyes, a devilish smile crossing his lips. 

“Yes sir,” Ronan said, saluting him. 

“Take off your shirt,” Adam said again. He had no idea where this domineering side had come from, but he liked it.

Ronan obeyed. Adam sucked in a breath. Ronan was beautiful, a sculpture made of fine marble. Adam reached out a hand, each finger tracing his impossible lines, taking a moment to gently flick his nipple, causing Ronan to squirm and suck in air.

“Get on the bed,” Adam commanded. 

Ronan smirked, happy to play along.

Adam pressed his body against Ronan’s, trailing open mouthed kisses along his lips, jaw line, and neck. Adam dipped lower peppering Ronan’s chest and stomach with kisses, alternating between gentle bites and licks. Ronan’s hands clenched the sheets and moaned, ragged and animalistic. Adam dipped his fingers beneath Ronan’s waistband of his sweats and tugged. Ronan arched off the bed and Adam pulled Ronan’s pants off. 

Adam’s heart stopped. The image of Ronan sprawled before him, a warrior stripped bare, his body a work of art was breathtaking. Adam longed to memorize every peak and valley of Ronan’s body.

Adam’s mouth journeyed over Ronan’s hard abdomen, taking his time. Ronan sighed and moaned and tangled his fingers in Adam’s hair, pulling ever so gently. Adam knew he would never get used to this and simultaneously would always be used to this. Adam trailed to the dip of Ronan’s hips, biting skin over bone. Ronan growled. A deep, hungry sound. 

“Adam,” Ronan’s voice was thick, deeper than usual. Adam caught Ronan’s gaze, it was hungry, like he wanted to eat him alive. “Kiss me. Please.” A small whimper escaped Ronan’s lips and Adam was done for. 

 

Adam’s mouth caught Ronan’s and his tongue slid across Ronan’s, hot and cold. Ronan’s hand cupped Adam’s face while the other pulled Adam’s pants off. There was no more need for words. 

In a quick move, Ronan flipped Adam over. The bed sheets felt cool and silky against his warm skin. Ronan pressed his hips against Adam’s and rotated down. Adam’s breath hitched. He reached a hand down between them, taking Ronan in his fist, precum already wetting the tip of his dick. It was soft and full. Satisfying. 

Adam rubbed him like it was himself, a firm up and down motion with a twist at the head. He didn’t know any other way. Ronan moaned against his ear. Sweat-slicked skin sliding against sweat-slick skin. Hands exploring hidden places. Tongues tasting. Whispers of names as reverent as prayers. 

Ronan leaned back on his heels, pulling Adam with him. Adam’s hands never stopped moving. One twisted and pulled the massive length of Ronan’s hard cock, getting faster with every stroke. His other hand cupped his balls and pulled gently. Ronan closed his eyes in ecstasy, his hands never leaving Adam’s body. 

Ronan tossed his head back and with a strangled noise, he came in Adam’s fist. 

Adam sat back, a content smile on his face, pride swelling within him. This savagely handsome man was his and he had enjoyed Adam’s hands. Hands that Adam never thought would be good for anything but calluses, pain and destruction. 

Ronan’s head fell forward to Adam’s shoulder, showering it with kisses. Adam could feel Ronan’s pulse throbbing at the base of his neck, sweat glistening across his shoulders.

Ronan pulled back, finally looking Adam in the eye, and smiled. It was wicked and sly and full of mischief. Dangerous. 

“Be right back,” Ronan said with a wink. His voice was hoarse.

He stood up and walked to a door next to his bed that Adam hadn’t seen in the heat of the moment. 

Ronan returned with tissues and a glass of water. He took a sip of water and handed the rest to Adam. Then, he wiped Adam’s hands and his own stomach with the tissues. The gesture was gentle and loving and intimate. Ronan’s eyes never left Adam’s. 

Taking the water from Adam’s hand, Ronan guided him back against the mattress. Adam relaxed under his hands as Ronan massaged circles in the tense muscles of his arms, working his way from biceps to forearms and then wrists and hands. Adam closed his eyes. He felt as if Ronan was worshiping him. 

Ronan’s mouth dipped to Adam’s collarbone, back up to his jaw and sucked on his earlobe. Adam luxuriated in the feeling, little jolts of electricity shot through his stomach. When Ronan’s tongue trailed lower, past his navel, past his hips and to the most sensitive part of his inner thighs, Adam moaned so loud, he shocked himself. 

Adam opened one eye to see Ronan looking up at him, from his position between his legs, one eyebrow cocked, and a sinful grin. Adam chuckled and flung his head back against the pillow. 

Ronan continued to taste and tease until Adam could barely stay still. 

“Ronan,” Adam whined.

“Yeeeeessssss?” Ronan responded in a sing-song way.  
“Just get the show on the road, dipshit.” 

Ronan laughed, full of mirth. “What do you suggest I do?”

Adam propped himself up on his elbows, looked Ronan square in the eye and said, “Suck my dick, damn it!” 

Ronan laughed and continued to laugh as he kissed Adam’s legs, knees, waist, hips and the trail of hair leading him lower, everywhere but the one place Adam wanted. Adam growled in frustration and continued to growl in pleasure as Ronan’s mouth closed around his cock. His tongue swirled around its head, tracing over his slit and then flat down the shaft. Ronan’s hands joined his mouth, one tugged his balls softly, the other twisted the base of his dick. The combination of Ronan’s mouth and hands on him was explosive. Adam lost track of time and space. He forgot his own name. He threaded his fingers through the short stubble of Ronan’s head as he bobbed up and down and twisted. Adam rode the waves of pleasure, allowing them to build until they crested over him in a tidal wave that caused starbursts behind his eyelids, washing him out to sea. He didn’t care that he was chanting Ronan’s name like a prayer. 

When he opened his eyes, Ronan stared at him. His blue eyes curious. 

“What?” Adam asked, suddenly self conscious.

The right side of Ronan’s lips quirked up. “You really like my name, huh?”

Adam felt his already hot cheeks burn. He picked up a pillow and threw it at Ronan, who caught it with a laugh.

Adam sat up, his muscles and bones wax in his body, disconnected and sore. He laced his fingers behind Ronan’s neck. 

“Come here you ass.” Adam kissed Ronan and they fell back on the bed. 

****

When Ronan woke, the late afternoon sun was setting in the west through the window, painting the sky purple, red and yellow. Next to him he felt Adam stir, pressing his face against Ronan’s shoulder, muttering in his sleep. Something about Cabeswater. 

Adam had fallen asleep first, his head nestled in the crook of Ronan’s neck. Ronan wrapped his arms tighter around Adam, wanting to cover him from the responsibilities of his life and the terrors of this world and any world beyond. Listening to Adam’s deep, even breathing, sleep finally overtook Ronan, and he dreamed. 

He dreamed of colors and flowers. He dreamed of Adam. He dreamed of joyful things and impossible things. In his hand was a mass of tiny blue flowers, the scent of rain. 

Ronan smiled to himself, warmth spreading through his chest. He finally felt his muscles relax. All the agitation, frustration, and restlessness spent. The past twenty-four hours had been surreal, and he had to keep reminding himself it wasn’t a dream. It was real. 

He lightly brushed a stray hair out of Adam’s eyes marveling at how soft his hair truly was, trailing a finger down his face and across the taut muscles of Adam’s shoulders. Adam sighed and looked up at him, bleary blue eyes squinting, a sheepish smile crossing his lips. 

Ronan’s fingers cupped Adam’s chin pulling him closer for a kiss. 

“Hi,” Ronan said against Adam’s lips.

He felt like he was going to burst. 

“Hi.” Adam blinked owlishly a few times and yawned, putting his head against Ronan’s chest, under his chin.

“Best. Sleep. Ever,” Adam muttered, his voice thick with sleep. 

Ronan chuckled. “Is that all I am to you Parrish? A good sleep?” 

Ronan felt Adam smile against his chest. 

They curled into each other, the only sound their breaths and heartbeats. 

“I could get used to this,” Adam said sounding more awake, and after a beat he tentatively asked. “Maybe you should sleep at my place tonight?”

“I always stay at your place,” Ronan returned, knowing he made every excuse in the book to sleep on the floor next to Adam.

“Well, now you’ve been upgraded to the deluxe suite,” Adam replied with a chuckle.

Ronan shook his head. “You know I have a perfectly acceptable bed at Monmouth, right?” 

Adam looked up at him, wide-eyed, feigning shock. 

“Gansey would stroke out right there in the middle of his model Henrietta. He would never approve of such lascivious behavior.” 

“Speaking of…” Ronan trailed off. 

Adam sat up in bed, legs crossed, his knees pressing into Ronan’s side. 

“Not it,” Adam said, a serious look on his face.

A sly grin slid across Ronan’s mouth. “Oh no Parrish, you’re not going to get out of this so quickly.”

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked toward the ceiling then back to Ronan. “Rock, Paper, Scissors?”

Ronan scooted out from under the covers, sitting cross legged before Adam. He put his fist on top of his open palm. 

“1… 2… 3…”

“Damn it,” Adam growled. He had thrown scissors. Ronan had thrown a rock. Rock beats scissors.

“Have fun telling Gansey,” Ronan smirked, now fully awake.

Adam groaned. 

“I guess we could make it easy and just let him catch up having sex on the sofa,” Ronan suggested waggling his eyebrows. 

“I repeat: stroke out. Model Henrietta.” 

“I repeat,” Ronan mimicked Adam’s Henrietta accent. “Stroke out. Model Henrietta.”

Adam pushed Ronan back against the pillows with a laugh. Ronan let him. He had never seen Adam so carefree and rested. Adam straddled Ronan’s hips, his long bangs hanging in his eyes, an arm on either side of Ronan’s head. Ronan’s hands held onto Adam’s hipbones.

“You jackass,” Adam said and bent forward to catch Ronan’s smiling lips between his own. This kiss was a dance, feather-soft, ethereal, hypnotic. Ronan could get used to this as well.

When the kiss broke, Adam gazed into Ronan’s eyes and he knew that they wouldn’t be seeing Monmouth Manufacturing tonight or possibly the next night. Ronan smiled, feeling like he would never stop smiling. He knew more than anyone that dreams did come true. 

“Well, I guess it’s St. Agnes then,” Ronan said, pulling Adam down against him.


End file.
